


Professor Tricia Would Have a Field Day

by nausicaa_lives



Category: Letterkenny (TV)
Genre: Double Penetration, Dumb Hockey Boys, F/M, M/M, Multi, Porn with Feelings, Threesome - F/M/M, oblivious characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:40:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28144746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa_lives/pseuds/nausicaa_lives
Summary: Dumb fucking Shoresy, poking his deranged nose in everybody's business (and moms). They ought to shut him up one of these days, but who has time for that when Katy Cat has a free afternoon and ideas about how to fill it.
Relationships: Jonesy/Katy/Reilly (Letterkenny), Jonesy/Reilly (Letterkenny)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 80
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Professor Tricia Would Have a Field Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silk_knickers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silk_knickers/gifts).



> silk_knickers, thank you so much for such an incredibly lovely letter! I had a lot of fun writing this and hope you like it!

Reilly's tired after a long praccy, wants to shower in peace before he and Jonesy head over to Katy Cat's for some two on one. The showers, unfortunately, are occupied.

"What are you two looking at?" Comes that ungodly shrill fucker from a foot off the shower floor. "Take a picture, it'll give you something to take home to your moms."

"God damn it Shoresy," Jonesy says next to him. "Maybe you wouldn't have so much hustle in the shower if you had more hustle on the ice, eh."

"Yeah, buddy," Reilly picks it up, "Strange you can hold yourself up like that without any hands,"

"Quite an angle when you can't dangle, bud," Jonesy finishes.

"Fuck you Jonesy, Tell your mom to stop friending me on Venmo, it'll just make her sad," Shoresy says. Jonesy tenses up beside Reilly, clenching his jaw,

"Don't _talk_ about my mother."

"Yeah, you wanna go, Shoresy," Reilly says, stepping forward, cause he's got his bro's back and also cause he's afraid Shoresy might say some surely-untrue thing about his mom any second now.

"Oh, yeah, let's go," Shoresy says, "Three things'll happen, I hit you, you hit the floor, the reverb has your mom's Nuva ring coming out on the upstroke."

"Agh!!!" Reilly shakes his head, trying to get the image out of his head. Jonesy puts a hand on his shoulder to keep him from lunging forward, says,

"That is _fucked_ , man!" Jonesy shouts.

"Bet it would seem that way to you pansies, making eye contact and swapping smiles when you take down the same billet sister."

"We do _not!"_ Reilly says reflexively. Their takedowns are crisp, and it's all about slaying snipeys, not-not—

"Our takedowns are _crisp_!" Jonesy says, thank fuck. They turn and leave, trying to get out before—

"Give your balls a tug, tit fuckers!" They hear Shoresey's voice as the locker room door slams shut behind them.

* * *

"Oh, get over to your right bro," Reilly says, ducking his head hard into the curve of Katy's right shoulder. "Over and out," Jonesy says. Reilly squints open, sees Jonesy's twisted his head all the way around to the right like he's looking out the window. What a team player there. He tries to get his rhythm back, but he can't seem to find it. It feels good and all, it always does, but it's hard to read the play when your teammate's looking for shapes in the dry wall. He tries going a little harder to make up for it, but—

"Okay, enough!" Katy's voice cuts through whatever confusion was happening, like only Katy can. If that kind of thing was a skills competition, she'd get the money every fucking time. She shoves Jonesy over, lifts off and away, and collapses in between them with a huff. "What is going on?"

"Well," Reilly starts. Then stops. His wet dick feels kind of cold now that she's over there, but the cover's scrunched up all the way at the foot of the bed and he feels like going to get it and covering up will be some kind of forfeit.

"Well, pitter patter," Katy urges. Jonesy catches his eye, his eyebrows scrunched up, his mouth clenched up and sad, and then looks away again.

"We can't get at 'er," he bursts.

"We're having some trouble getting at 'er, boys," Reilly follows immediately now the dam's been broken.

Katy rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but her mouth curves into a soft laugh as she pulls herself up to sit crosslegged on the bed. "Clearly. What's up?"

"Shoresy was talkin shit," Reilly says,

"Spewing smack," says Jonesy.

"Speaking ill,"

"Real ill,"

"He was chirping us, like. You know saying we were making eye contact when…"

Katy nods. "When you're going two ganders, one goose," she says.

"Two guys, one girl, no cups," Reilly confirms.

"No cups, ferda," Jonesy says, and Reilly's glad because yep that's sight he'd like to unsee. Speaking of sights,

"It's hard to get the groove when we can't coordinate," he says, getting to the matter at hand. Neither Jonesy nor Katy are currently at hand, sitting still on the bed, and he wishes fucking Shoresy hadn't said anything so they would be.

"And why can't you make eye contact?"

"Well…" begins Reilly.

"Well, you know we think Roald is fine and all but that's not really the vibe."

"Yeah, we do reps,"

"He does rips,"

"We like clams,"

"He gets slammed."

"You're not attracted to each other?" Katy asks, her voice light. Reilly doesn't really know what she's getting at there. Looking at Jonesy's chest, his delts that got even bigger over the summer, that treasure trail he stopped waxing leading down… like obviously,

"Obviously Jonesy's a licensed beautician,"

"Reilly didn't need to go to beauty school, he's a self taught wonder and it works," Jonesy says, and Reilly knew his bro had his back but hearing it feels good.

"I'd let him cut my hair,"

"I'd trust him to do my makeup,"

"Only not really," Reilly adds. He doesn't want Katy to take the makeup thing the wrong way, doesn't want anyone thinking anything bad about Jonesy, ever.

"Right, not really," Jonesy says.

Katy sighs and looks back and forth between them. Reilly follows her gaze to Jonesy's chest, wet with sweat. He's so proud of how successful Jonesy's last bulk and cut was, so proud that everyone can see that work manifest. He looks back at Katy, who smiles now. Leans her head back to roll her neck, the ends of her hair shifting over her bare shoulders and back.

"Okay, I get it."

"Yeah?" asks Jonesy, eyes hopeful. Reilly's chest aches and he doesn't know why. It's like he's sore somewhere he can't place and didn't know was getting exercise.

"Yeah. But it's unfortunate."

"What?" Reilly asks.

"It's unfortunate," she continues like he didn't say anything, "because, you know….. it really turns me on when you guys look at each other."

"Huh," says Reilly. He never knew that. He's not really sure what to do with that information, and maybe needs some time to think. Two guys making eye contact during sex is pretty soft, pansy-like, as is swapping smiles, etc. But turning on hot girls isn't soft at all, just like grabbing a guy's biceps or glutes for leverage when you're having sex with a girl isn't gay, because doubling down on a girl with your buddy is pretty fucking heterosexual, ask anyone on the team.

"So," says Jonesy, looking at Reilly now, apparently having done some thinking of his own—"so it's probably best for Katy Cat if we don't not look at each other then." Reilly can feel his mouth widen into a smile, his resolve set easily in place.

"Katy Cat," he says, turning to look at her, "you're a fuckin snipe, so uh if you want some closer coordination here, we can make that happen." Katy smiles at them, like that's exactly what she wanted to hear. Reilly's so glad they can make her happy, that they don't have to worry about any of that other stuff. It's obvious that pleasing a girl like Katy in bed is way more important than whatever donkey sounding bullshit Shoresy has to say about it.

"Alright then," she says, "tick tock," and they spring into action. Reilly assumes position laying on the bed with his head propped up, Katy lies back on top of him while jonesy adds more lube.

"Is that good?"

"Yeah, all good," she answers. She grinds her ass back against Reilly's ass, her back pressed to his chest, and he groans, starting to stiffen up again. Her rim catches on the head of his dick, but it slips away. She tilts her head up to look at him.

"Touch my tits." Well, he knows how to follow directions. His hands reach around and span her chest, pulling her closer, holding her tighter to him and making her gasp.

"Jonesy," she says, "Put Reilly's dick back in my ass."

"I can, uh," Reilly starts, but Katy cuts him off, "You stay where you are."

Jonesy, kneeling over them, meets Reilly's eyes again. "You good bro?"

"Uh, sure bro," Reilly says. In all honesty, he thinks he might need a little more warmup before he can stick it right in there, but then Jonesy is looking down, and, shit, there's his hand on Reilly's dick, Katy lifting herself up and angling her ass, and Reilly's dick feels heavy, taut and full. Jonesy's hand closes around the base of his dick with barely there pressure, and Reilly feels warm in his chest, his face. His hand grasps at Katy's right breast tighter and she lets out a gratifying, "ah—" Reilly looks for Jonesy's dark blue eyes again and finds them, can't look away as Jonesy guides him into her, the tightness, the wetness, the warmth overwhelming. Finally, Jonesy lets go and Reilly sinks all the way into Katy. Jonesy looks down again, obviously watching the action there, and it's like his gaze makes Katy go tighter, makes Reilly's dick get harder and more desperate. He grinds up, looking down from Jonesy's eyes to his mouth, which is open just-so like he's going to speak, but isn't making any noise. His lips look soft, wet, pink, like the softness of Katy Reilly feels as he moves out of her just enough to push back in.

"Okay, Jonesy, hop back in," Katy says, clear and in charge even as her voice catches and her breath can be heard in her words.

"Yeah?" Jonesy asks.

"Yeah," she breathes. Jonesy doesn't move for a moment, and before thinking about it Reilly reaches out to grab his shoulder, to give him a little help, to get a little leverage.

"Yeah, okay," Jonesy says, and Reilly can't see him slip in, but can tell it happens as Katy tightens around him and Jonesy bites his lip.

"Theeere we go," Katy says. Reilly's not all the way in her anymore, but still mostly is. He thinks about how Jonesy's dick, chirped often for its slight upward curve, makes this all work so well, and feels a rush of gratitude and tightness in his abdomen. What an MVP. They move slowly but intentionally, not too rough, but enough it keeps building, and Reilly feels already like his train is closer to reaching the station than it oughta be. "Jonesy, speed up," Katy says, and Jonesy's looking at him and bites his lip before going just a bit faster, harder. Reilly can feel it, doesn't try and stop the groan coming out of his throat, feels the drive to fuck in harder himself but looks Jonesy straight in the eyes and slows down, so he can focus on the sensation, feel Jonesy pumping Katy on and off his dick, feel him inside of her.

"Reilly," says Katy in front of him. His hands are on her hips now, her voice muffled in Jonesy's chest. "Aren't Jonesy's eyes so blue?" And a small part of him is thinking that doesn't make sense, she can't even see Jonesy right now, but the rest of him is just following along looking at Jonesy's face, all shocked and open, focusing in on those, eyes, trying not to come. It takes a second for him to say anything, but he knows he needs to.

"Blue federal credit union over there," he says, and his smile comes easy, somehow despite the effort of it all, how he feels tense and too good all over. "Giving me everything I need to feel secure." His hips jerk just a little as Jonesy's mouth opens wider. "And I'm gonna give back everything I borrow, plus a little extra."

Jonesy's looking straight back at him, his voice so deep when he says, "Got nothing on Reilly's eyes. Like multiple colors at once, like the inside of that hard tree we saw on that field trip to the natural history museum in eighth grade."

Between them, Katy laughs, and it's such a friendly laugh Reilly isn't worried about what she might think about Jonesy for saying stuff like that. Still, he can't leave him hanging, says,

"Bro I could swim laps in your eyes, low impact on the joints, high impact on the emotions."

"Your eyes," says Jonesy, face fierce, fucking even harder, and Katie moans, clenches up, "the green in your eyes is like a forest I'm getting lost in and never want to find my way out of," and Reilly can't take it anymore, he's coming hard, different from how he ever has before.

"Fuck," he says, reaching around Katy, grabbing Jonesy's hand for leverage as he pushes in once more and feels like his body is coming apart. Katy squeezes tight around him and he can tell she's coming too. His body is still alight, and he needs Jonesy to come with them, needs—"come on Buddy," he says, and Jonesy's upper lip scrunches, his mouth gasps, a single staccato "-ah-" and it's like a slapshot from the point straight to the net in overtime when Reilly feels it happen, there he is, he can finally release, breathe, there's that W.

He flops over on his back, relishing the looseness of his muscles, the sound of Jonesy breathing heavy as he comes down. The air settles cool over him and he's ready to pass out, to call it a night right here in Katy's bed at 4:30 in the afternoon. His eyelids are dropping more and more as he blinks when Katie says,

"I'm cold." He looks over and sees her on her side, facing him now, Jonesy spooned up behind her. "Come on," she reaches out, and he rolls over into her so she can sort of shove her head in his neck, covers her body with his.

"That better?" he asks.

"Mmhm. Sleep now," she directs softly. Reilly reaches his arm over to hold Jonesy's side so she feels secure and feels real soft when Jonesy looks at him and smiles. He smiles back as he closes his eyes and lets himself sleep.

The room is dark when Reilly wakes up, slowly becoming aware of a dry stickiness in his mouth. He turns his head and sees Katy gone, the space she occupied in his arms gone too as if it were never there. Jonesy's leg, now, is splayed over Reilly's legs, his arm is folded across Reilly's chest, his hand curved around the slope between his pec and his armpit. His hair is kind of Reilly's face, and Reilly wants to press his face into it, smell Jonesy's sweat, traces of his shampoo. He lifts his head and jostles Jonesy's shoulder, speaking low, voice coming out rougher than he expects,

"Hey, bud. Bud."

"Uh?" Jonesy stirs, squinting his eyes closed tight and blinking them open. 

"Katy's gone," Reilly says. 

"Yeah," Jonesy says on a wide yawn, and Reilly ducks away so he doesn't get oven breath. "She and the hicks went to scrap with some other hicks about a lemon tree."

"A lemon tree?"

"Yeah."

"Well we'd better get up then, huh,"  
  
"Yeah buddy," Jonesy starts to tug his body up, away, and Reilly sits up too, before Jonesy stops, pushing him back down into his warm spot on the mattress. "Wait a sec there." He looks at Reilly, right in the eye. Reilly doesn't know what he's doing, and for some strange reason as Jonesy looks down at him, eyes sharp, the thought crosses Reilly's mind that they might have a scrap right here, right now, with their shirts already off and their friendly weapons still out. 

"Practice like you play, buddy," Jonesy says, like he says anything else, pointing up at his eyes. Now Reilly understands, he breathes out and in again,

"Play like you practice," Reilly says back. Jonesy grins, his eyes sparkling like new ice, before climbing off the bed. 

"Good work boys. Head to the store, pick up some dip?"

"Yeah I'll have some of that no puff snuff," he says, pushing himself up, letting his shoulder knock into Jonesy's on their way out the door. 


End file.
